James in the Garden
by IanPeriwinkle
Summary: This is a SongFic about James Jesse using the song 'Michael in the Garden' - There's a little bit of Piper/Trickster in there, but you can choose not to see it if you're that way inclined. James is perfectly fine in his world - No matter what they say.


**So, Trickster and Piper are my favourite rogues. Full stop. And there ****_are _****a few FanFictions about them… But I was listening to this song by Ralph McTell called ****_Michael In The Garden_****, and thought to myself: ****_Now _****that ****_sounds a bit like James' situation_****, and got up, and started writing. I hope that you enjoy this – It's a little bit Hartley/James if you squint at it and rotate your head by thirty-nine degrees…**

**BECAUSE OF THE THREAT OF IT BEING TAKEN DOWN, I HAVE CHANGED THE LYRICS SLIGHTLY, AND PROVIDED A LINK TO THE SONG: www .youtube watch?v=eoShjY-mWsY&feature=artist (As always, take out the spaces)**

**This time, I'm starting out with the story, and ****_then _****moving on to song lyrics… Just to see how that goes.**

Hartley watched his friend, as he battled once again with Len over medication. James had never liked those pills, but every time he went back, the doctors would tell him; "We know best, James," "This will help you, James," and Hartley's favourite, "You're a sick little boy, James, and you need this." But it's not like anyone could ever understand what's going on in James' mind. He certainly couldn't – or, wouldn't – tell you.

_Out in the garden,_

_Amongst the bushes,_

_James is crying,_

_Caught in a spider's web,_

_Its broken wings beating,_

_A butterfly dying,_

Looking around, without his medication, James saw the world as it was. Unfair. Unjust. Cold. Cruel. And also, beautiful. Millions of people died every day; Babies, children, women, men. Everybody, from every walk of life, ran the risk of dying _every single day_. And there was nothing he could do about it. So, not on his meds, he would cry – Mourn for the people who wouldn't be mourned.

_Oh,_

_La-la-la-la-la-la-la,_

_La-la-la-la-la-la-la,_

_And they in their wisdom say,_

_James has got something,_

_Wrong-wrong-wrong,_

_With his mind,_

_Well,_

_They must be blind,_

_Because they can't see,_

_What James sees,_

And while he mourns, James can hear the adults complaining; "Why does he do this?" "What's wrong with him?" "Has he had his meds today?" But he doesn't really care about that – He loves them, at least, he loves Len. And Mick, Mark, and Sam and Digger. And even Roscoe. But most of all, he loved the one who _never _talks about him like that. He loves Hartley.

_James is silent,_

_Talking to no-one,_

_Of things that he sees,_

_But out in the garden,_

_He talks in soft whispers,_

_Like the wind in the leaves,_

James felt a strong need to express himself using bodily actions when on his meds. Hartley believes that the reality of the gestures makes him feel… _safe_ – For lack of a better word. The adults think that he's just being an annoying brat. But James talks to Hartley – Not about much, but he'll sit, and he'll start talking quietly, and he'll just keep on going. Quite often, Hartley will find himself with a heavily sleeping Trickster on his lap. And he'll smile, and put in some music. _Hm… _He thinks to himself, as a song starts blaring, _Michael in the Garden_. And he'll let the song lull him to sleep.

_Oh,_

_La-la-la-la-la-la-la,_

_La-la-la-la-la-la-la,_

_And they in their wisdom say,_

_James has got something,_

_Wrong-wrong-wrong,_

_With his mind,_

_They've seen the signs,_

_But they can't see,_

_What James sees,_

When out with the rogues, whether it be robbing a bank, or just grabbing some groceries, Trickster will always notice something small, whether it be a brand-new baby and mother, screaming in terror, or an old man, stopped from crossing the road. He will notice, and he will _try _to help them… But he can't. Not always. And when he can't, he'll get upset again. And Len will take him home and give him his meds, and he'll say something along the lines of: "James, you're a good kid – But you _can't _help everyone. You need to let some things go."

_And inside the building,_

_Someone is calling,_

_His name through the halls,_

_But he doesn't answer,_

_Though he easily hears,_

_Each leaf as it falls,_

Hartley noticed James leaving that morning, but he'd seemed lucid enough, so Piper had just watched, as the boy left. Now Len was frantic, and Mark was stressed, and Digger was pissy. So Hartley stepped outside quietly to go and find his friend. He walked through the halls, and turned the corner to find James sitting next to a pot-plant. He wanted to ask what James was doing, but didn't get the chance: "Hartley, the kittens," Piper heard a choked back sob, and he came over, looking into James' arms. He took the bloody mess from James' hold, and slowly led the blood-covered boy back to their apartment.

_Oh,_

_La-la-la-la-la-la-la,_

_La-la-la-la-la-la-la,_

_And they in their wisdom say,_

_James has got something,_

_Wrong-wrong-wrong,_

_With his mind,_

_Well,_

_They must be blind,_

_Because they can't see,_

_What James sees,_

The rogues are a happy family – No, they're not the most functional. Nor are they remotely typical. But James loves them; Even if they don't understand him. He just wishes that they would stop trying to cloud his judgement with those _stupid _pills.

_James,_

_Where are you?_

_James,_

_Where are we,_

_We who see that there's something wrong with your mind,_

Of course, every morning, _just _before the adults get up, James is up playing. He needs to be, so that he has a fighting chance of not having to take his pills. Usually, they win, though – After a lot of shouts about his being a brat and annoying. But it's a ritual now. One that's been going on since James first went to jail. At nine years old.

_And inside the garden,_

_James is smiling,_

_At peace in his world,_

_At one with the insects,_

_The flowers and the trees,_

_And the wind and the birds,_

James is comfortable as he is; He knows he's insane, but he _feels _perfect. He loves his world – No matter how cruel it is, he sees everything. He _knows _everything. And it's fine.

_Oh,_

_La-la-la-la-la-la-la,_

_La-la-la-la-la-la-la,_

Len smiles, as he watches James dance around the park. _He's still just a kid, _The man thought, and he laughs. James is an interesting boy, and Len had enjoyed watching him grow. It was a bit like being a parent, he had realised a few days ago. And he was happy for it.

_James sees all,_

_Behind the high walls,_

_Surrounding his kingdom,_

_Whilst we in our wisdom,_

_Still trapped in the spider's web,_

_Far from the flow and ebb,_

_Of life in the garden,_

_But James has pardoned,_

_Us,_

_For he sees,_

_That really he's free,_

_And,_

_There's nothing to mend,_

_For his wings are not broken,_

Their little family all go together next time James is called in for a check-up with the psychiatrist. On the way, James smiled, and laughs, and plays. Because he's a normal boy; Not broken. Just… _damaged_.

_And they in their wisdom say,_

_James has got something,_

_Wrong-wrong-wrong,_

_With his mind,_

_They've seen the signs,_

_But James feels fine,_

_Inside the garden._

James sits with his family. He listens to the conversation, and, understanding all of it, is slightly confused. He doesn't feel sick, so he just ignores what they say. He cuddles in to his family. He smiles. Because he's fine, in his world.

**Wow… That's about a thousand words in itself! Well, I hope you enjoyed that, and I really recommend going to YouTube and checking out the song. It's absolutely gorgeous! Anyway, Ian out.**


End file.
